Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban

Đây là tài liệu vô cùng hữu ích trong việc học tiếng Anh. Cùng với sự hấp dẫn của cốt truyện và lượng từ ngữ phong phú, đa dạng, hy vọng tài liệu sẽ giúp ích cho các bạn trong việc học Tiếng Anh nói chung cũng như nâng cấp vốn từ vựng Tiếng Anh nói riêng

HARRY POTTER AND THE PRISONER OF AZKABAN

BY J.K ROWLING

CHAPTER ONE OWL POST

Harry Potter was a highly unusual boy in many ways For one thing, he hated the summer holidays more than any other time of year For another, he really wanted to do his homework but was forced to do it in secret, in the dead of night And he also happened to be a wizard

It was nearly midnight, and he was lying on his stomach in bed, the blankets drawn right over

his head like a tent, a flashlight in one hand and a large leather-bound book (A History of Magic by

Bathilda Bagshot) propped open against the pillow Harry moved the tip of his eagle-feather quill down the page, frowning as he looked for something that would help him write his essay, ‘Witch Burning in the Fourteenth Century Was Completely Pointless — discuss.’

The quill paused at the top of a likely looking paragraph Harry pushed his round glasses up the bridge of his nose, moved his flashlight closer to the book, and read:

Non-magic people (more commonly known as Muggles) were particularly afraid of magic in medieval times, but not very good at recognizing it On the rare occasion that they did catch a real witch or wizard, burning had no effect whatsoever The witch or wizard would perform a basic Flame-Freezing Charm and then pretend to shriek with pain while enjoying a gentle, tickling sensation Indeed, Wendelin the Weird enjoyed being burned so much that she allowed herself to be caught no less than forty-seven times in various disguises

Harry put his quill between his teeth and reached underneath his pillow for his inkbottle and a roll of parchment Slowly and very carefully he unscrewed the ink bottle, dipped his quill into it, and began to write, pausing every now and then to listen, because if any of the Dursleys heard the

scratching of his quill on their way to the bathroom, he’d probably find himself locked in the cupboard under the stairs for the rest of the summer

The Dursley family of Number Four, Privet Drive, was the reason that Harry never enjoyed his summer holidays Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and their son, Dudley, were Harry’s only living relatives They were Muggles, and they had a very medieval attitude toward magic Harry’s dead parents, who had been a witch and wizard themselves, were never mentioned under the Dursleys’ roof For years, Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had hoped that if they kept Harry as downtrodden

as possible, they would be able to squash the magic out of him To their fury, they had not been unsuccessful These days they lived in terror of anyone finding out that Harry had spent most of the last two years at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry The most they could do, however, was to lock away Harry’s spell books, wand, cauldron, and broomstick at the start of the summer break, and forbid him to talk to the neighbors

This separation from his spell books had been a real problem for Harry, because his teachers at Hogwarts had given him a lot of holiday work One of the essays, a particularly nasty one about shrinking potions, was for Harry’s least favorite teacher, Professor Snape, who would be delighted to have an excuse to give Harry detention for a month Harry had therefore seized his chance in the first week of the holidays While Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and Dudley had gone out into the front garden to admire Uncle Vernon’s new company car (in very loud voices, so that the rest of the street would notice it too), Harry had crept downstairs, picked the lock on the cupboard under the stairs, grabbed some of his books, and hidden them in his bedroom As long as he didn’t leave spots

of ink on the sheets, the Dursleys need never know that he was studying magic by night

Harry was particularly keen to avoid trouble with his aunt and uncle at the moment, as they were already in an especially bad mood with him, all because he’d received a telephone call from a fellow wizard one week into the school vacation

Ron Weasley, who was one of Harry’s best friends at Hogwarts, came from a whole family of wizards This meant that he knew a lot of things Harry didn’t, but had never used a telephone before Most unluckily, it had been Uncle Vernon who had answered the call

“Vernon Dursley speaking.”

Harry, who happened to be in the room at the time, froze as he heard Ron’s voice answer

“HELLO? HELLO? CAN YOU HEAR ME? I — WANT — TO — TALK — TO — HARRY

— POTTER!”

Ron was yelling so loudly that Uncle Vernon jumped and held the receiver a foot away from his ear, staring at it with an expression of mingled fury and alarm

“WHO IS THIS?” he roared in the direction of the mouthpiece “WHO ARE YOU?”

“RON — WEASLEY!” Ron bellowed back, as though he and Uncle Vernon were speaking from opposite ends of a football field “I’M — A — FRIEND — OF — HARRY’S — FROM — SCHOOL —”

Uncle Vernon’s small eyes swiveled around to Harry, who was rooted to the spot

“THERE IS NO HARRY POTTER HERE!” he roared, now holding the receiver at arm’s length, as though frightened it might explode “I DON’T KNOW WHAT SCHOOL YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT! NEVER CONTACT ME AGAIN! DON’T YOU COME NEAR MY FAMILY!”

And he threw the receiver back onto the telephone as if dropping a poisonous spider

The fight that had followed had been one of the worst ever

“HOW DARE YOU GIVE THIS NUMBER TO PEOPLE LIKE — PEOPLE LIKE YOU!”

Uncle Vernon had roared, spraying Harry with spit

Ron obviously realized that he’d gotten Harry into trouble, because he hadn’t called again Harry’s other best friend from Hogwarts, Hermione Granger, hadn’t been in touch either Harry suspected that Ron had warned Hermione not to call, which was a pity, because Hermione, the cleverest witch in Harry’s year, had Muggle parents, knew perfectly well how to use a telephone, and would probably have had enough sense not to say that she went to Hogwarts

So Harry had had no word from any of his wizarding friends for five long weeks, and this summer was turning out to be almost as bad as the last one There was just one very small improvement — after swearing that he wouldn’t use her to send letters to any of his friends, Harry had been allowed to let his owl, Hedwig, out at night Uncle Vernon had given in because of the racket Hedwig made if she was locked in her cage all the time

Harry finished writing about Wendelin the Weird and paused to listen again The silence in the dark house was broken only by the distant, grunting snores of his enormous cousin, Dudley It must

be very late, Harry thought His eyes were itching with tiredness Perhaps he’d finish this essay tomorrow night…

He replaced the top of the ink bottle; pulled an old pillowcase from under his bed; put the

flashlight, A History of Magic, his essay, quill, and ink inside it; got out of bed; and hid the lot under

a loose floorboard under his bed Then he stood up, stretched, and checked the time on the luminous alarm clock on his bedside table

It was one o’clock in the morning Harry’s stomach gave a funny jolt He had been thirteen years old, without realizing it, for a whole hour

Yet another unusual thing about Harry was how little he looked forward to his birthdays He had never received a birthday card in his life The Dursleys had completely ignored his last two birthdays, and he had no reason to suppose they would remember this one

Harry walked across the dark room, past Hedwig’s large, empty cage, to the open window He leaned on the sill, the cool night air pleasant on his face after a long time under the blankets Hedwig had been absent for two nights now Harry wasn’t worried about her: she’d been gone this long before But he hoped she’d be back soon — she was the only living creature in this house who didn’t flinch at the sight of him

Harry, though still rather small and skinny for his age, had grown a few inches over the last year His jet-black hair, however, was just as it always had been — stubbornly untidy, whatever he did to

it The eyes behind his glasses were bright green, and on his forehead, clearly visible through his hair, was a thin scar, shaped like a bolt of lightning

Of all the unusual things about Harry, this scar was the most extraordinary of all It was not, as the Dursleys had pretended for ten years, a souvenir of the car crash that had killed Harry’s parents, because Lily and James Potter had not died in a car crash They had been murdered, murdered by the most feared Dark wizard for a hundred years, Lord Voldemort Harry had escaped from the same attack with nothing more than a scar on his forehead, where Voldemort’s curse, instead of killing him, had rebounded upon its originator Barely alive, Voldemort had fled…

But Harry had come face-to-face with him at Hogwarts Remembering their last meeting as he stood at the dark window, Harry had to admit he was lucky even to have reached his thirteenth birthday

He scanned the starry sky for a sign of Hedwig, perhaps soaring back to him with a dead mouse dangling from her beak, expecting praise Gazing absently over the rooftops, it was a few seconds before Harry realized what he was seeing

Silhouetted against the golden moon, and growing larger every moment, was a large, strangely lopsided creature, and it was flapping in Harry’s direction He stood quite still, watching it sink lower and lower For a split second he hesitated, his hand on the window latch, wondering whether

to slam it shut But then the bizarre creature soared over one of the street lamps of Privet Drive, and Harry, realizing what it was, leapt aside

Through the window soared three owls, two of them holding up the third, which appeared to be

unconscious They landed with a soft flump on Harry’s bed, and the middle owl, which was large

and gray, keeled right over and lay motionless There was a large package tied to its legs

Harry recognized the unconscious owl at once — his name was Errol, and he belonged to the Weasley family Harry dashed to the bed, untied the cords around Errol’s legs, took off the parcel, and then carried Errol to Hedwig’s cage Errol opened one bleary eye, gave a feeble hoot of thanks, and began to gulp some water

Harry turned back to the remaining owls One of them, the large snowy female, was his own Hedwig She, too, was carrying a parcel and looked extremely pleased with herself She gave Harry

an affectionate nip with her beak as he removed her burden, then flew across the room to join Errol Harry didn’t recognize the third owl, a handsome tawny one, but he knew at once where it had come from, because in addition to a third package, it was carrying a letter bearing the Hogwarts crest When Harry relieved this owl of its burden, it ruffled its feathers importantly, stretched its wings, and took off through the window into the night

Harry sat down on his bed and grabbed Errol’s package, ripped off the brown paper, and discovered a present wrapped in gold and his first ever birthday card Fingers trembling slightly, he opened the envelope Two pieces of paper fell out — a letter and a newspaper clipping

The clipping had clearly come out of the wizarding newspaper, the Daily Prophet, because the

people in the black-and-white picture were moving Harry picked up the clipping, smoothed it out, and read:

MINISTRY OF MAGIC EMPLOYEE SCOOPS GRAND PRIZE

Arthur Weasley, Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office at the Ministry of Magic, has won the annual Daily Prophet Grand Prize Galleon Draw

A delighted Mr Weasley told the Daily Prophet, “We will be spending the gold on a summer holiday

in Egypt, where our eldest son, Bill, works as a curse breaker for Gringotts Wizarding Bank.”

The Weasley family will be spending a month in Egypt, returning for the start of the new school year

at Hogwarts, which five of the Weasley children currently attend

Harry scanned the moving photograph, and a grin spread across his face as he saw all nine of the Weasleys waving furiously at him, standing in front of a large pyramid Plump little Mrs Weasley; tall, balding Mr Weasley; six sons; and one daughter, all (though the black-and-white picture didn’t

show it) with flaming-red hair Right in the middle of the picture was Ron, tall and gangling, with his pet rat, Scabbers, on his shoulder and his arm around his little sister, Ginny

Harry couldn’t think of anyone who deserved to win a large pile of gold more than the Weasleys, who were very nice and extremely poor He picked up Ron’s letter and unfolded it

I couldn’t believe it when Dad won the Daily Prophet Draw Seven hundred galleons! Most of it’s gone on this trip, but they’re going to buy me a new wand for next year

Harry remembered only too well the occasion when Ron’s old wand had snapped It had happened when the car the two of them had been flying to Hogwarts had crashed into a tree on the school grounds

We’ll be back about a week before term starts and we’ll be going up to London to get my wand and our new books Any chance of meeting you there?

Don’t let the Muggles get you down!

Try and come to London,

Ron

P.S Percy’s Head Boy He got the letter last week

Harry glanced back at the photograph Percy, who was in his seventh and final year at Hogwarts, was looking particularly smug He had pinned his Head Boy badge to the fez perched jauntily on top

of his neat hair, his horn-rimmed glasses flashing in the Egyptian sun

Harry now turned to his present and unwrapped it Inside was what looked like a miniature glass spinning top There was another note from Ron beneath it

Harry — this is a Pocket Sneakoscope If there’s someone untrustworthy around, it’s supposed to light

up and spin Bill says it’s rubbish sold for wizard tourists and isn’t reliable, because it kept lighting up at dinner last night But he didn’t realize Fred and George had put beetles in his soup

Bye — Ron

Harry put the Pocket Sneakoscope on his bedside table, where it stood quite still, balanced on its point, reflecting the luminous hands of his clock He looked at it happily for a few seconds, then picked up the parcel Hedwig had brought

Inside this, too, there was a wrapped present, a card, and a letter, this time from Hermione

Dear Harry,

Ron wrote to me and told me about his phone call to your Uncle Vernon I do hope you’re all right I’m on holiday in France at the moment and I didn’t know how I was going to send this to you — what if they’d opened it at customs? — but then Hedwig turned up! I think she wanted to make sure you got something for your birthday for a change I bought your present by owl-order; there was an advertisement in the Daily Prophet (I’ve been getting it delivered; it’s so good to keep up with what’s going

on in the wizarding world) Did you see that picture of Ron and his family a week ago? I bet he’s learning loads I’m really jealous — the ancient Egyptian wizards were fascinating

There’s some interesting local history of witchcraft here, too I’ve rewritten my whole History of Magic essay to include some of the things I’ve found out, I hope it’s not too long — it’s two rolls of parchment more than Professor Binns asked for

Ron says he’s going to be in London in the last week of the holidays Can you make it? Will your aunt and uncle let you come? I really hope you can If not, I’ll see you on the Hogwarts Express on September first!

Love from Hermione

P.S Ron says Percy’s Head Boy I’ll bet Percy’s really pleased Ron doesn’t seem too happy about it

Harry laughed as he put Hermione’s letter aside and picked up her present It was very heavy Knowing Hermione, he was sure it would be a large book full of very difficult spells — but it wasn’t His heart gave a huge bound as he ripped back the paper and saw a sleek black leather case, with

silver words stamped across it, reading Broomstick Servicing Kit

“Wow, Hermione!” Harry whispered, unzipping the case to look inside

There was a large jar of Fleetwood’s High-Finish Handle Polish, a pair of gleaming silver

Tail-Twig Clippers, a tiny brass compass to clip on your broom for long journeys, and a Handbook of

Do-It-Yourself Broomcare

Apart from his friends, the thing that Harry missed most about Hogwarts was Quidditch, the most popular sport in the magical world — highly dangerous, very exciting, and played on broomsticks Harry happened to be a very good Quidditch player; he had been the youngest person

in a century to be picked for one of the Hogwarts House teams One of Harry’s most prized possessions was his Nimbus Two Thousand racing broom

Harry put the leather case aside and picked up his last parcel He recognized the untidy scrawl

on the brown paper at once: this was from Hagrid, the Hogwarts gamekeeper He tore off the top layer of paper and glimpsed something green and leathery, but before he could unwrap it properly, the parcel gave a strange quiver, and whatever was inside it snapped loudly — as though it had jaws Harry froze He knew that Hagrid would never send him anything dangerous on purpose, but then, Hagrid didn’t have a normal person’s view of what was dangerous Hagrid had been known to befriend giant spiders, buy vicious, three-headed dogs from men in pubs, and sneak illegal dragon eggs into his cabin

Harry poked the parcel nervously It snapped loudly again Harry reached for the lamp on his bedside table, gripped it firmly in one hand, and raised it over his head, ready to strike Then he seized the rest of the wrapping paper in his other hand and pulled

And out fell — a book Harry just had time to register its handsome green cover, emblazoned

with the golden title The Monster Book of Monsters, before it flipped onto its edge and scuttled

sideways along the bed like some weird crab

“Uh-oh,” Harry muttered

The book toppled off the bed with a loud clunk and shuffled rapidly across the room Harry followed it stealthily The book was hiding in the dark space under his desk Praying that the Dursleys were still fast asleep, Harry got down on his hands and knees and reached toward it

“Ouch!”

The book snapped shut on his hand and then flapped past him, still scuttling on its covers Harry scrambled around, threw himself forward, and managed to flatten it Uncle Vernon gave a loud, sleepy grunt in the room next door

Hedwig and Errol watched interestedly as Harry clamped the struggling book tightly in his arms, hurried to his chest of drawers, and pulled out a belt, which he buckled tightly around it The Monster Book shuddered angrily, but could no longer flap and snap, so Harry threw it down on the bed and reached for Hagrid’s card

It struck Harry as ominous that Hagrid thought a biting book would come in useful, but he put Hagrid’s card up next to Ron’s and Hermione’s, grinning more broadly than ever Now there was only the letter from Hogwarts left

Noticing that it was rather thicker than usual, Harry slit open the envelope, pulled out the first page of parchment within, and read:

Harry pulled out the Hogsmeade permission form and looked at it, no longer grinning It would

be wonderful to visit Hogsmeade on weekends; he knew it was an entirely wizarding village, and he had never set foot there But how on earth was he going to persuade Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia

to sign the form?

He looked over at the alarm clock It was now two o’clock in the morning

Deciding that he’d worry about the Hogsmeade form when he woke up, Harry got back into bed and reached up to cross off another day on the chart he’d made for himself, counting down the days left until his return to Hogwarts Then he took off his glasses and lay down; eyes open, facing his three birthday cards

Extremely unusual though he was, at that moment Harry Potter felt just like everyone else — glad, for the first time in his life, that it was his birthday

CHAPTER TWO AUNT MARGE’S BIG MISTAKE

Harry went down to breakfast the next morning to find the three Dursleys already sitting around the kitchen table They were watching a brand-new television, a welcome-home-for-the-summer present for Dudley, who had been complaining loudly about the long walk between the fridge and the television in the living room Dudley had spent most of the summer in the kitchen, his piggy little eyes fixed on the screen and his five chins wobbling as he ate continually

Harry sat down between Dudley and Uncle Vernon, a large, beefy man with very little neck and

a lot of mustache Far from wishing Harry a happy birthday, none of the Dursleys made any sign that they had noticed Harry enter the room, but Harry was far too used to this to care He helped himself to a piece of toast and then looked up at the reporter on the television, who was halfway through a report on an escaped convict

“…the public is warned that Black is armed and extremely dangerous A special hot line has been set up, and any sighting of Black should be reported immediately.”

“No need to tell us he’s no good,” snorted Uncle Vernon, staring over the top of his newspaper at

the prisoner “Look at the state of him, the filthy layabout! Look at his hair!”

He shot a nasty look sideways at Harry, whose untidy hair had always been a source of great annoyance to Uncle Vernon Compared to the man on the television, however, whose gaunt face was surrounded by a matted, elbow-length tangle, Harry felt very well groomed indeed

The reporter had reappeared

“The Ministry of Agriculture and Fisheries will announce today —”

“Hang on!” barked Uncle Vernon, staring furiously at the reporter “You didn’t tell us where that maniac’s escaped from! What use is that? Lunatic could be coming up the street right now!” Aunt Petunia, who was bony and horse-faced, whipped around and peered intently out of the kitchen window Harry knew Aunt Petunia would simply love to be the one to call the hot line number She was the nosiest woman in the world and spent most of her life spying on the boring, law-abiding neighbors

“When will they learn,” said Uncle Vernon, pounding the table with his large purple fist, “that

hanging’s the only way to deal with these people?”

“Very true,” said Aunt Petunia, who was still squinting into next door’s runner-beans

Uncle Vernon drained his teacup, glanced at his watch, and added, “I’d better be off in a minute, Petunia Marge’s train gets in at ten.”

Harry, whose thoughts had been upstairs with the Broomstick Servicing Kit, was brought back

to earth with an unpleasant bump

“Aunt Marge?” he blurted out “Sh-she’s not coming here, is she?”

Aunt Marge was Uncle Vernon’s sister Even though she was not a blood relative of Harry’s (whose mother had been Aunt Petunia’s sister), he had been forced to call her ‘Aunt’ all his life Aunt Marge lived in the country, in a house with a large garden, where she bred bulldogs She didn’t often stay at Privet Drive, because she couldn’t bear to leave her precious dogs, but each of her visits stood out horribly vividly in Harry’s mind

At Dudley’s fifth birthday party, Aunt Marge had whacked Harry around the shins with her walking stick to stop him from beating Dudley at musical statues A few years later, she had turned

up at Christmas with a computerized robot for Dudley and a box of dog biscuits for Harry On her last visit, the year before Harry started at Hogwarts, Harry had accidentally trodden on the tail of her favorite dog Ripper had chased Harry out into the garden and up a tree, and Aunt Marge had refused to call him off until past midnight The memory of this incident still brought tears of laughter to Dudley’s eyes

“Marge’ll be here for a week,” Uncle Vernon snarled, “and while we’re on the subject,” he pointed a fat finger threateningly at Harry, “we need to get a few things straight before I go and collect her.”

Dudley smirked and withdrew his gaze from the television Watching Harry being bullied by Uncle Vernon was Dudley’s favorite form of entertainment

“Firstly,” growled Uncle Vernon, “you’ll keep a civil tongue in your head when you’re talking to Marge.”

“All right,” said Harry bitterly, “if she does when she’s talking to me.”

“Secondly,” said Uncle Vernon, acting as though he had not heard Harry’s reply, “as Marge

doesn’t know anything about your abnormality, I don’t want any — any funny stuff while she’s here

You behave yourself, got me?”

“I will if she does,” said Harry through gritted teeth

“And thirdly,” said Uncle Vernon, his mean little eyes now slits in his great purple face, “we’ve told Marge you attend St Brutus’s Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys.”

“What?” Harry yelled

“And you’ll be sticking to that story, boy, or there’ll be trouble,” spat Uncle Vernon

Harry sat there, white-faced and furious, staring at Uncle Vernon, hardly able to believe it Aunt Marge coming for a weeklong visit — it was the worst birthday present the Dursleys had ever given him, including that pair of Uncle Vernon’s old socks

“Well, Petunia,” said Uncle Vernon, getting heavily to his feet, “I’ll be off to the station, then Want to come along for the ride, Dudders?”

“No,” said Dudley, whose attention had returned to the television now that Uncle Vernon had finished threatening Harry

“Duddy’s got to make himself smart for his auntie,” said Aunt Petunia, smoothing Dudley’s thick blond hair “Mummy’s bought him a lovely new bow-tie.”

Uncle Vernon clapped Dudley on his porky shoulder

“See you in a bit, then,” he said, and he left the kitchen

Harry, who had been sitting in a kind of horrified trance, had a sudden idea Abandoning his toast, he got quickly to his feet and followed Uncle Vernon to the front door

Uncle Vernon was pulling on his car coat

“I’m not taking you,” he snarled as he turned to see Harry watching him

“Like I wanted to come,” said Harry coldly “I want to ask you something.”

Uncle Vernon eyed him suspiciously

“Third years at Hog — at my school are allowed to visit the village sometimes,” said Harry

“So?” snapped Uncle Vernon, taking his car keys from a hook next to the door

“I need you to sign the permission form,” said Harry in a rush

“And why should I do that?” sneered Uncle Vernon

“Well,” said Harry, choosing his words carefully, “it’ll be hard work, pretending to Aunt Marge I

“You’ll get the stuffing knocked out of you, won’t you?” roared Uncle Vernon, advancing on Harry

with his fist raised But Harry stood his ground

“Knocking the stuffing out of me won’t make Aunt Marge forget what I could tell her,” he said grimly

Uncle Vernon stopped, his fist still raised, his face an ugly puce

“But if you sign my permission form,” Harry went on quickly, “I swear I’ll remember where I’m supposed to go to school, and I’ll act like a Mug — like I’m normal and everything.”

Harry could tell that Uncle Vernon was thinking it over, even if his teeth were bared and a vein was throbbing in his temple

“Right,” he snapped finally “I shall monitor your behavior carefully during Marge’s visit If, at the end of it, you’ve toed the line and kept to the story, I’ll sign your ruddy form.”

He wheeled around, pulled open the front door, and slammed it so hard that one of the little panes of glass at the top fell out

Harry didn’t return to the kitchen He went back upstairs to his bedroom If he was going to act like a real Muggle, heed better start now Slowly and sadly he gathered up all his presents and his birthday cards and hid them under the loose floorboard with his homework Then he went to Hedwig’s cage Errol seemed to have recovered; he and Hedwig were both asleep, heads under their wings Harry sighed, then poked them both awake

“Hedwig,” he said gloomily, “you’re going to have to clear off for a week Go with Errol Ron’ll look after you I’ll write him a note, explaining And don’t look at me like that” — Hedwig’s large amber eyes were reproachful — “it’s not my fault It’s the only way I’ll be allowed to visit Hogsmeade with Ron and Hermione.”

Ten minutes later, Errol and Hedwig (who had a note to Ron bound to her leg) soared out of the window and out of sight Harry, now feeling thoroughly miserable, put the empty cage away inside the wardrobe

But Harry didn’t have long to brood In next to no time, Aunt Petunia was shrieking up the stairs for Harry to come down and get ready to welcome their guest

“Do something about your hair!” Aunt Petunia snapped as he reached the hall

Harry couldn’t see the point of trying to make his hair lie flat Aunt Marge loved criticizing him,

so the untidier he looked, the happier she would be

All too soon, there was a crunch of gravel outside as Uncle Vernon’s car pulled back into the driveway, then the clunk of the car doors and footsteps on the garden path

“Get the door!” Aunt Petunia hissed at Harry

A feeling of great gloom in his stomach, Harry pulled the door open

On the threshold stood Aunt Marge She was very like Uncle Vernon: large, beefy, and faced, she even had a mustache, though not as bushy as his In one hand she held an enormous suitcase, and tucked under the other was an old and evil-tempered bulldog

purple-“Where’s my Dudders?” roared Aunt Marge purple-“Where’s my neffy poo?”

Dudley came waddling down the hall, his blond hair plastered flat to his fat head, a bow tie just visible under his many chins Aunt Marge thrust the suitcase into Harry’s stomach, knocking the wind out of him, seized Dudley in a tight one-armed hug, and planted a large kiss on his cheek Harry knew perfectly well that Dudley only put up with Aunt Marge’s hugs because he was well paid for it, and sure enough, when they broke apart, Dudley had a crisp twenty-pound note clutched

in his fat fist

“Petunia!” shouted Aunt Marge, striding past Harry as though he was a hat-stand Aunt Marge and Aunt Petunia kissed, or rather, Aunt Marge bumped her large jaw against Aunt Petunias bony cheekbone

Uncle Vernon now came in, smiling jovially as he shut the door

“Tea, Marge?” he said “And what will Ripper take?”

“Ripper can have some tea out of my saucer,” said Aunt Marge as they all proceeded into the kitchen, leaving Harry alone in the hall with the suitcase But Harry wasn’t complaining; any excuse not to be with Aunt Marge was fine by him, so he began to heave the case upstairs into the spare bedroom, taking as long as he could

By the time he got back to the kitchen, Aunt Marge had been supplied with tea and fruitcake, and Ripper was lapping noisily in the corner Harry saw Aunt Petunia wince slightly as specks of tea and drool flecked her clean floor Aunt Petunia hated animals

“Who’s looking after the other dogs, Marge?” Uncle Vernon asked

“Oh, I’ve got Colonel Fubster managing them,” boomed Aunt Marge “He’s retired now, good for him to have something to do But I couldn’t leave poor old Ripper He pines if he’s away from me.”

Ripper began to growl again as Harry sat down This directed Aunt Marge’s attention to Harry for the first time

“So!” she barked “Still here, are you?”

“Yes,” said Harry

“Don’t you say ‘yes’ in that ungrateful tone,” Aunt Marge growled “It’s damn good of Vernon and Petunia to keep you Wouldn’t have done it myself You’d have gone straight to an orphanage if

you’d been dumped on my doorstep.”

Harry was bursting to say that he’d rather live in an orphanage than with the Dursleys, but the thought of the Hogsmeade form stopped him He forced his face into a painful smile

“Don’t you smirk at me!” boomed Aunt Marge “I can see you haven’t improved since I last saw you I hoped school would knock some manners into you.” She took a large gulp of tea, wiped her mustache, and said, “Where is it that you send him, again, Vernon?”

“St Brutus’s,” said Uncle Vernon promptly “It’s a first-rate institution for hopeless cases.”

“I see,” said Aunt Marge “Do they use the cane at St Brutus’s, boy?” she barked across the table

“Er —”

Uncle Vernon nodded curtly behind Aunt Marge’s back

“Yes,” said Harry Then, feeling he might as well do the thing properly, he added, “All the time.”

“Excellent,” said Aunt Marge “I won’t have this namby-pamby, wishy-washy nonsense about not hitting people who deserve it A good thrashing is what’s needed in ninety-nine cases out of a

hundred Have you been beaten often?”

“Oh, yeah,” said Harry, “loads of times.”

Aunt Marge narrowed her eyes

“I still don’t like your tone, boy,” she said “If you can speak of your beatings in that casual way, they clearly aren’t hitting you hard enough Petunia, I’d write if I were you Make it clear that you approve the use of extreme force in this boy’s case.”

Perhaps Uncle Vernon was worried that Harry might forget their bargain; in any case, he changed the subject abruptly

“Heard the news this morning, Marge? What about that escaped prisoner, eh?”

As Aunt Marge started to make herself at home, Harry caught himself thinking almost longingly

of life at number four without her Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia usually encouraged Harry to stay out of their way, which Harry was only too happy to do Aunt Marge, on the other hand, wanted Harry under her eye at all times, so that she could boom out suggestions for his improvement She delighted in comparing Harry with Dudley, and took huge pleasure in buying Dudley expensive presents while glaring at Harry, as though daring him to ask why he hadn’t got a present too She also kept throwing out dark hints about what made Harry such an unsatisfactory person

“You mustn’t blame yourself for the way the boy’s turned out, Vernon,” she said over lunch on

the third day “If there’s something rotten on the inside, there’s nothing anyone can do about it.”

Harry tried to concentrate on his food, but his hands shook and his face was starting to burn

with anger Remember the form, he told himself Think about Hogsmeade Don’t say anything Don’t

rise —

Aunt Marge reached for her glass of wine

“It’s one of the basic rules of breeding,” she said “You see it all the time with dogs If there’s something wrong with the bitch, there’ll be something wrong with the pup —”

At that moment, the wineglass Aunt Marge was holding exploded in her hand Shards of glass flew in every direction and Aunt Marge sputtered and blinked, her great ruddy face dripping

“Marge!” squealed Aunt Petunia “Marge, are you all right?”

“Not to worry,” grunted Aunt Marge, mopping her face with her napkin “Must have squeezed

it too hard Did the same thing at Colonel Fubster’s the other day No need to fuss, Petunia, I have a very firm grip…”

But Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were both looking at Harry suspiciously, so he decided he’d better skip dessert and escape from the table as soon as he could

Outside in the hall, he leaned against the wall, breathing deeply It had been a long time since he’d lost control and made something explode He couldn’t afford to let it happen again The Hogsmeade form wasn’t the only thing at stake — if he carried on like that, he’d be in trouble with the Ministry of Magic

Harry was still an underage wizard, and he was forbidden by wizard law to do magic outside school His record wasn’t exactly clean either Only last summer he’d gotten an official warning that had stated quite clearly that if the Ministry got wind of any more magic in Privet Drive, Harry would face expulsion from Hogwarts

He heard the Dursleys leaving the table and hurried upstairs out of the way

Harry got through the next three days by forcing himself to think about his Handbook of

Do-It-Yourself Broomcare whenever Aunt Marge started on him This worked quite well, though it seemed

to give him a glazed look, because Aunt Marge started voicing the opinion that he was mentally subnormal

At last, at long last, the final evening of Marge’s stay arrived Aunt Petunia cooked a fancy dinner and Uncle Vernon uncorked several bottles of wine They got all the way through the soup and the salmon without a single mention of Harry’s faults; during the lemon meringue pie, Uncle Vernon bored them a with a long talk about Grunnings, his drill-making company; then Aunt Petunia made coffee and Uncle Vernon brought out a bottle of brandy

“Can I tempt you, Marge?”

Aunt Marge had already had quite a lot of wine Her huge face was very red

“Just a small one, then,” she chuckled “A bit more than that…and a bit more…that’s the ticket.”

Dudley was eating his fourth slice of pie Aunt Petunia was sipping coffee with her little finger sticking out Harry really wanted to disappear into his bedroom, but he met Uncle Vernon’s angry little eyes and knew he would have to sit it out

“Aah,” said Aunt Marge, smacking her lips and putting the empty brandy glass back down

“Excellent nosh, Petunia It’s normally just a fry-up for me of an evening, with twelve dogs to look after…” She burped richly and patted her great tweed stomach “Pardon me But I do like to see a healthy-sized boy,” she went on, winking at Dudley “You’ll be a proper-sized man, Dudders, like your father Yes, I’ll have a spot more brandy, Vernon…”

“Now, this one here —”

She jerked her head at Harry, who felt his stomach clench The Handbook, he thought quickly

“This one’s got a mean, runty look about him You get that with dogs I had Colonel Fubster drown one last year Ratty little thing it was Weak Underbred.”

Harry was trying to remember page twelve of his book: A Charm to Cure Reluctant Reversers

“It all comes down to blood, as I was saying the other day Bad blood will out Now, I’m saying nothing against your family, Petunia” — she patted Aunt Petunia’s bony hand with her shovel-like one “but your sister was a bad egg They turn up in the best families Then she ran off with a wastrel and here’s the result right in front of us.”

Harry was staring at his plate, a funny ringing in his ears Grasp your broom firmly by the tail, he

thought But he couldn’t remember what came next Aunt Marge’s voice seemed to be boring into him like one of Uncle Vernon’s drills

“This Potter,” said Aunt Marge loudly, seizing the brandy bottle and splashing more into her glass and over the tablecloth, “you never told me what he did?”

Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia were looking extremely tense Dudley had even looked up from his pie to gape at his parents

“He — didn’t work,” said Uncle Vernon, with half a glance at Harry “Unemployed.”

“As I expected!” said Aunt Marge, taking a huge swig of brandy and wiping her chin on her sleeve “A no-account, good-for-nothing, lazy scrounger who —”

“He was not,” said Harry suddenly The table went very quiet Harry was shaking all over He had never felt so angry in his life

“MORE BRANDY!” yelled Uncle Vernon, who had gone very white He emptied the bottle into Aunt Marge’s glass “You, boy,” he snarled at Harry “Go to bed, go on —”

“No, Vernon,” hiccupped Aunt Marge, holding up a hand, her tiny bloodshot eyes fixed on Harry’s “Go on, boy, go on Proud of your parents, are you? They go and get themselves killed in a car crash (drunk, I expect) —”

“They didn’t die in a car crash!” said Harry, who found himself on his feet

“They died in a car crash, you nasty little liar, and left you to be a burden on their decent, hardworking relatives!” screamed Aunt Marge, swelling with fury “You are an insolent, ungrateful little —”

But Aunt Marge suddenly stopped speaking For a moment, it looked as though words had failed her She seemed to be swelling with inexpressible anger — but the swelling didn’t stop Her great red face started to expand, her tiny eyes bulged, and her mouth stretched too tightly for speech

— next second, several buttons had just burst from her tweed jacket and pinged off the walls — she was inflating like a monstrous balloon, her stomach bursting free of her tweed waistband, each of her fingers blowing up like a salami…

“MARGE!” yelled Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia together as Aunt Marge’s whole body began

to rise off her chair toward the ceiling She was entirely round, now, like a vast life buoy with piggy eyes, and her hands and feet stuck out weirdly as she drifted up into the air, making apoplectic popping noises Ripper came skidding into the room, barking madly

“NOOOOOOO!”

Uncle Vernon seized one of Marge’s feet and tried to pull her down again, but was almost lifted from the floor himself A second later, Ripper leapt forward and sank his teeth into Uncle Vernon’s leg

Harry tore from the dining room before anyone could stop him, heading for the cupboard under the stairs The cupboard door burst magically open as he reached it In seconds, he had heaved his trunk to the front door He sprinted upstairs and threw himself under the bed, wrenching up the loose floorboard, and grabbed the pillowcase full of his books and birthday presents He wriggled out, seized Hedwig’s empty cage, and dashed back downstairs to his trunk, just as Uncle Vernon burst out of the dining room, his trouser leg in bloody tatters

“COME BACK IN HERE!” he bellowed “COME BACK AND PUT HER RIGHT!”

But a reckless rage had come over Harry He kicked his trunk open, pulled out his wand, and pointed it at Uncle Vernon

“She deserved it,” Harry said, breathing very fast “She deserved what she got You keep away from me.”

He fumbled behind him for the latch on the door

“I’m going,” Harry said “I’ve had enough.”

And in the next moment, he was out in the dark, quiet street, heaving his heavy trunk behind him, Hedwig’s cage under his arm

CHAPTER THREE THE KNIGHT BUS

Harry was several streets away before he collapsed onto a low wall in Magnolia Crescent, panting from the effort of dragging his trunk He sat quite still, anger still surging through him, listening to the frantic thumping of his heart

But after ten minutes alone in the dark street, a new emotion overtook him: panic Whichever way he looked at it, he had never been in a worse fix He was stranded, quite alone, in the dark Muggle world, with absolutely nowhere to go And the worst of it was, he had just done serious magic, which meant that he was almost certainly expelled from Hogwarts He had broken the Decree for the Restriction of Underage Wizardry so badly, he was surprised Ministry of Magic representatives weren’t swooping down on him where he sat

Harry shivered and looked up and down Magnolia Crescent

What, was going to happen to him? Would he be arrested, or would he simply be outlawed from the wizarding world? He thought of Ron and Hermione, and his heart sank even lower Harry was sure that, criminal or not, Ron and Hermione would want to help him now, but they were both abroad, and with Hedwig gone, he had no means of contacting them

He didn’t have any Muggle money, either There was a little wizard gold in the money bag at the bottom of his trunk, but the rest of the fortune his parents had left him was stored in a vault at Gringotts Wizarding Bank in London He’d never be able to drag his trunk all the way to London Unless…

He looked down at his wand, which he was still clutching in his hand If he was already expelled (his heart was now thumping painfully fast), a bit more magic couldn’t hurt He had the Invisibility Cloak he had inherited from his father — what if he bewitched the trunk to make it feather-light, tied it to his broomstick, covered himself in the cloak, and flew to London? Then he could get the rest of his money out of his vault and…begin his life as an outcast It was a horrible prospect, but he couldn’t sit on this wall forever, or he’d find himself trying to explain to Muggle police why he was out in the dead of night with a trunk full of spell books and a broomstick

Harry opened his trunk again and pushed the contents aside, looking for the Invisibility Cloak

— but before he had found it, he straightened up suddenly, looking around him once more

A funny prickling on the back of his neck had made Harry feel he was being watched, but the street appeared to be deserted, and no lights shone from any of the large square houses

He bent over his trunk again, but almost immediately stood up once more, his hand clenched on his wand He had sensed rather than heard it: someone or something was standing in the narrow gap

between the garage and the fence behind him Harry squinted at the black alleyway If only it would move, then he’d know whether it was just a stray cat or — something else

“Lumos,” Harry muttered, and a light appeared at the end of his wand, almost dazzling him He

held it high over his head, and the pebble-dashed walls of number two suddenly sparkled; the garage door gleamed, and between them Harry saw, quite distinctly, the hulking outline of something very big, with wide, gleaming eyes

Harry stepped backward His legs hit his trunk and he tripped His wand flew out of his hand as

he flung out an arm to break his fall, and he landed, hard, in the gutter

There was a deafening BANG, and Harry threw up his hands to shield his eyes against a sudden blinding light…

With a yell, he rolled back onto the pavement, just in time A second later, a gigantic pair of wheels and headlights screeched to a halt exactly where Harry had just been lying They belonged, as Harry saw when he raised his head, to a triple-decker, violently purple bus, which had appeared out

of thin air Gold lettering over the windshield spelled The Knight Bus

For a split second, Harry wondered if he had been knocked silly by his fall Then a conductor in

a purple uniform leapt out of the bus and began to speak loudly to the night

“Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard just stick out your wand hand, step on board, and we can take you anywhere you want to go My name is Stan Shunpike, and I will be your conductor this eve—”

The conductor stopped abruptly He had just caught sight of Harry, who was still sitting on the ground Harry snatched up his wand again and scrambled to his feet Close up, he saw that Stan Shunpike was only a few years older than he was, eighteen or nineteen at most, with large, protruding ears and quite a few pimples

“What were you doin’ down there?” said Stan, dropping his professional manner

“Fell over,” said Harry

“’Choo fall over for?” sniggered Stan

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” said Harry, annoyed One of the knees in his jeans was torn, and the hand he had thrown out to break his fall was bleeding He suddenly remembered why he had fallen over and turned around quickly to stare at the alleyway between the garage and fence The Knight Bus’s headlamps were flooding it with light, and it was empty

“‘Choo lookin’ at?” said Stan

“There was a big black thing,” said Harry, pointing uncertainly into the gap “Like a dog…but massive…”

He looked around at Stan, whose mouth was slightly open With a feeling of unease, Harry saw Stan’s eyes move to the scar on Harry’s forehead

“Woss that on your ’ead?” said Stan abruptly

“Nothing,” said Harry quickly, flattening his hair over his scar If the Ministry of Magic was looking for him, he didn’t want to make it too easy for them

“Woss your name?” Stan persisted

“Neville Longbottom,” said Harry, saying the first name that came into his head “So — so this

bus,” he went on quickly, hoping to distract Stan, “did you say it goes anywhere?”

“Yep,” said Stan proudly, “anywhere you like, ’long it’s on land Can’t do nuffink underwater

“Ere,” he said, looking suspicious again, “you did flag us down, dincha? Stuck out your wand

’and, dincha?”

“Yes,” said Harry quickly “Listen, how much would it be to get to London?”

“Eleven Sickles,” said Stan, “but for firteen you get ’ot chocolate, and for fifteen you get an water bottle an’ a toofbrush in the color of your choice.”

’ot-Harry rummaged once more in his trunk, extracted his money bag, and shoved some gold into Stan’s hand He and Stan then lifted his trunk, with Hedwig’s cage balanced on top, up the steps of the bus

There were no seats; instead, half a dozen brass bedsteads stood beside the curtained windows Candles were burning in brackets beside each bed, illuminating the wood-paneled walls A tiny wizard in a nightcap at the rear of the bus muttered, “Not now, thanks, I’m pickling some slugs” and rolled over in his sleep

“You ’ave this one,” Stan whispered, shoving Harry’s trunk under the bed right behind the driver, who was sitting in an armchair in front of the steering wheel “This is our driver, Ernie Prang This is Neville Longbottom, Ern.”

Ernie Prang, an elderly wizard wearing very thick glasses, nodded to Harry, who nervously flattened his bangs again and sat down on his bed

“Take’er away, Ern,” said Stan, sitting down in the armchair next to Ernie’s

There was another tremendous BANG, and the next moment Harry found himself flat on his bed, thrown backward by the speed of the Knight Bus Pulling himself up, Harry stared out of the

dark window and saw that they were now bowling along a completely different street Stan was watching Harry’s stunned face with great enjoyment

“This is where we was before you flagged us down,” he said “Where are we, Ern? Somewhere in Wales?”

“Ar,” said Ernie

“How come the Muggles don’t hear the bus?” said Harry

“Them!” said Stan contemptuously “Don’ listen properly, do they? Don’ look properly either Never notice nuffink, they don’.”

“Best go wake up Madam Marsh, Stan,” said Ern “We’ll be in Abergavenny in a minute.”

Stan passed Harry’s bed and disappeared up a narrow wooden staircase Harry was still looking out of the window, feeling increasingly nervous Ernie didn’t seem to have mastered the use of a steering wheel The Knight Bus kept mounting the pavement, but it didn’t hit anything; lines of lampposts, mailboxes, and trash cans jumped out of its way as it approached and back into position once it had passed

Stan came back downstairs, followed by a faintly green witch wrapped in a traveling cloak

“’Ere you go, Madam Marsh,” said Stan happily as Ern stamped on the brake and the beds slid a foot or so toward the front of the bus Madam Marsh clamped a handkerchief to her mouth and tottered down the steps Stan threw her bag out after her and rammed the doors shut; there was another loud BANG, and they were thundering down a narrow country lane, trees leaping out of the way

Harry wouldn’t have been able to sleep even if he had been traveling on a bus that didn’t keep banging loudly and jumping a hundred miles at a time His stomach churned as he fell back to wondering what was going to happen to him, and whether the Dursleys had managed to get Aunt Marge off the ceiling yet

Stan had unfurled a copy of the Daily Prophet and was now reading with his tongue between his

teeth A large photograph of a sunken-faced man with long, matted hair blinked slowly at Harry from the front page He looked strangely familiar

“That man!” Harry said, forgetting his troubles for a moment “He was on the Muggle news!” Stanley turned to the front page and chuckled

“Sirius Black,” he said, nodding “’Course ’e was on the Muggle news, Neville Where you been?”

He gave a superior sort of chuckle at the blank look on Harry’s face, removed the front page, and handed it to Harry

“You oughta read the papers more, Neville.”

Harry held the paper up to the candlelight and read:

BLACK STILL AT LARGE

Sirius Black, possibly the most infamous prisoner ever to be held in Azkaban fortress, is still eluding capture, the Ministry of Magic confirmed today

“We are doing all we can to recapture Black,” said the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, this morning, “and we beg the magical community to remain calm.”

Fudge has been criticized by some members of the International Federation of Warlocks for informing the Muggle Prime Minister of the crisis

“Well, really, I had to, don’t you know,” said an irritable Fudge “Black is mad He’s a danger to anyone who crosses him, magic or Muggle I have the Prime Minister’s assurance that he will not breathe a word of Black’s true identity to anyone And let’s face it — who’d believe him if he did?”

While Muggles have been told that Black is carrying a gun (a kind of metal wand that Muggles use to kill each other), the magical community lives in fear of a massacre like that of twelve years ago, when Black murdered thirteen people with a single curse

Harry looked into the shadowed eyes of Sirius Black, the only part of the sunken face that seemed alive Harry had never met a vampire, but he had seen pictures of them in his Defense Against the Dark Arts classes, and Black, with his waxy white skin, looked just like one

“Scary-lookin’ fing, inee?” said Stan, who had been watching Harry read

“He murdered thirteen people?” said Harry, handing the page back to Stan, “with one curse?”

“Yep,” said Stan, “in front of witnesses an’ all Broad daylight Big trouble it caused, dinnit, Ern?”

“Ar,” said Ern darkly

Stan swiveled in his armchair, his hands on the back, the better to look at Harry

“Black woz a big supporter of You-Know-’Oo,” he said

“What, Voldemort?” said Harry, without thinking

Even Stan’s pimples went white; Ern jerked the steering wheel so hard that a whole farmhouse had to jump aside to avoid the bus

“You outta your tree?” yelped Stan “’Choo say ’is name for?”

“Sorry,” said Harry hastily “Sorry, I — I forgot —”

“Forgot!” said Stan weakly “Blimey, my ’eart’s goin’ that fast…”

“So — so Black was a supporter of You-Know-Who?” Harry prompted apologetically

“Yeah,” said Stan, still rubbing his chest “Yeah, that’s right Very close to You-Know-’Oo, they say…anyway, when little ‘Arry Potter got the better of You-Know-’Oo” — Harry nervously flattened his bangs down again — “all You-Know-’Oo’s supporters was tracked down, wasn’t they, Ern? Most of ‘em knew it was all over, wiv You-Know-’Oo gone, and they came quiet But not Sirius Black I ’eard he thought ’e’d be second-in-command once You-Know-’Oo ’ad taken over

“Anyway, they cornered Black in the middle of a street full of Muggles an’ Black took out ‘is wand and ‘e blasted ‘alf the street apart, an’ a wizard got it, an’ so did a dozen Muggles what got in the way ‘Orrible, eh? An’ you know what Black did then?” Stan continued in a dramatic whisper

“What?” said Harry

“Laughed,” said Stan “Jus’ stood there an’ laughed An’ when reinforcements from the Ministry

of Magic got there, ‘e went wiv em quiet as anyfink, still laughing ‘is ‘ead off ‘Cos ‘e’s mad, inee, Ern? Inee mad?”

“If he weren’t when he went to Azkaban, he will be now,” said Ern in his slow voice “I’d blow meself up before I set foot in that place Serves him right, mind you…after what he did…”

“They ‘ad a job coverin’ it up, din’ they, Ern?” Stan said “’Ole street blown up an’ all them Muggles dead What was it they said ‘ad ‘appened, Ern?”

“Gas explosion,” grunted Ernie

“An’ now ‘e’s out,” said Stan, examining the newspaper picture of Black’s gaunt face again

“Never been a breakout from Azkaban before, ‘as there, Ern? Beats me ‘ow ‘e did it Frightenin’, eh? Mind, I don’t fancy ‘is chances against them Azkaban guards, eh, Ern?”

Ernie suddenly shivered “Talk about summat else, Stan, there’s a good lad Them Azkaban guards give me the collywobbles.”

Stan put the paper away reluctantly, and Harry leaned against the window of the Knight Bus, feeling worse than ever He couldn’t help imagining what Stan might be telling his passengers in a few nights’ time

“‘Ear about that ‘Arry Potter? Blew up ‘is aunt! We ‘ad ‘im ‘ere on the Knight Bus, di’n’t we, Ern? ‘E was tryin’ to run for it…”

He, Harry, had broken wizard law just like Sirius Black Was inflating Aunt Marge bad enough

to land him in Azkaban? Harry didn’t know anything about the wizard prison, though everyone he’d ever heard speak of it did so in the same fearful tone Hagrid, the Hogwarts gamekeeper, had spent

two months there only last year Harry wouldn’t soon forget the look of terror on Hagrid’s face when he had been told where he was going, and Hagrid was one of the bravest people Harry knew The Knight Bus rolled through the darkness, scattering bushes and wastebaskets, telephone booths and trees, and Harry lay, restless and miserable, on his feather bed After a while, Stan remembered that Harry had paid for hot chocolate, but poured it all over Harry’s pillow when the bus moved abruptly from Anglesey to Aberdeen One by one, wizards and witches in dressing gowns and slippers descended from the upper floors to leave the bus They all looked very pleased to go Finally, Harry was the only passenger left

“Right then, Neville,” said Stan, clapping his hands, “whereabouts in London?”

“Diagon Alley,” said Harry

“Righto,” said Stan “’Old tight, then.”

BANG

They were thundering along Charing Cross Road Harry sat up and watched buildings and benches squeezing themselves out of the Knight Bus’s way The sky was getting a little lighter He would lie low for a couple of hours, go to Gringotts the moment it opened, then set off — where, he didn’t know

Ern slammed on the brakes and the Knight Bus skidded to a halt in front of a small and looking pub, the Leaky Cauldron, behind which lay the magical entrance to Diagon Alley

shabby-“Thanks,” Harry said to Ern

He jumped down the steps and helped Stan lower his trunk and Hedwig’s cage onto the pavement

“Well,” said Harry “Bye then!”

But Stan wasn’t paying attention Still standing in the doorway to the bus he was goggling at the shadowy entrance to the Leaky Cauldron

“There you are, Harry,” said a voice

Before Harry could turn, he felt a hand on his shoulder At the same time, Stan shouted,

“Blimey! Ern, come ‘ere! Come ‘ere!”

Harry looked up at the owner of the hand on his shoulder and felt a bucketful of ice cascade into his stomach — he had walked right into Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic himself

Stan leapt onto the pavement beside them

“What didja call Neville, Minister?” he said excitedly

Fudge, a portly little man in a long, pinstriped cloak, looked cold and exhausted

“Neville?” he repeated, frowning “This is Harry Potter.”

“I knew it!” Stan shouted gleefully “Ern! Ern! Guess ‘oo Neville is, Ern! ‘E’s ‘Arry Potter! I can see ‘is scar!”

“Yes,” said Fudge testily, “well, I’m very glad the Knight Bus picked Harry up, but he and I need

to step inside the Leaky Cauldron now…”

Fudge increased the pressure on Harry’s shoulder, and Harry found himself being steered inside the pub A stooping figure bearing a lantern appeared through the door behind the bar It was Tom, the wizened, toothless landlord

“You’ve got him, Minister!” said Tom “Will you be wanting anything? Beer? Brandy?”

“Perhaps a pot of tea,” said Fudge, who still hadn’t let go of Harry

There was a loud scraping and puffing from behind them, and Stan and Ern appeared, carrying Harry’s trunk and Hedwig’s cage and looking around excitedly

“’Ow come you di’n’t tell us ‘oo you are, eh, Neville?” said Stan, beaming at Harry, while Ernie’s owlish face peered interestedly over Stan’s shoulder

“And a private parlor, please, Tom,” said Fudge pointedly

“Bye,” Harry said miserably to Stan and Ern as Tom beckoned Fudge toward the passage that led from the bar

“Bye, Neville!” called Stan

Fudge marched Harry along the narrow passage after Tom’s lantern, and then into a small parlor Tom clicked his fingers, a fire burst into life in the grate, and he bowed himself out of the room

“Sit down, Harry,” said Fudge, indicating a chair by the fire

Harry sat down, feeling goose bumps rising up his arms despite the glow of the fire Fudge took off his pinstriped cloak and tossed it aside, then hitched up the trousers of his bottle-green suit and sat down opposite Harry

“I am Cornelius Fudge, Harry The Minister of Magic.”

Harry already knew this, of course; he had seen Fudge once before, but as he had been wearing his father’s Invisibility Cloak at the time, Fudge wasn’t to know that

Tom the innkeeper reappeared, wearing an apron over his nightshirt and bearing a tray of tea and crumpets He placed the tray on a table between Fudge and Harry and left the parlor, closing the door behind him

“Well, Harry,” said Fudge, pouring out tea, “you’ve had us all in a right flap, I don’t mind telling you Running away from your aunt and uncle’s house like that! I’d started to think…but you’re safe, and that’s what matters.”

Fudge buttered himself a crumpet and pushed the plate toward Harry

“Eat, Harry, you look dead on your feet Now then…You will be pleased to hear that we have dealt with the unfortunate blowing-up of Miss Marjorie Dursley Two members of the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad were dispatched to Privet Drive a few hours ago Miss Dursley has been punctured and her memory has been modified She has no recollection of the incident at all So that’s that, and no harm done.”

Fudge smiled at Harry over the rim of his teacup, rather like an uncle surveying a favorite nephew Harry, who couldn’t believe his ears, opened his mouth to speak, couldn’t think of anything to say, and closed it again

“Ah, you’re worrying about the reaction of your aunt and uncle?” said Fudge “Well, I won’t deny that they are extremely angry, Harry, but they are prepared to take you back next summer as long as you stay at Hogwarts for the Christmas and Easter holidays.”

Harry unstuck his throat

“I always stay at Hogwarts for the Christmas and Easter holidays,” he said, “and I don’t ever want to go back to Privet Drive.”

“Now, now, I’m sure you’ll feel differently once you’ve calmed down,” said Fudge in a worried tone “They are your family, after all, and I’m sure you are fond of each other — er — very deep down.”

It didn’t occur to Harry to put Fudge right He was still waiting to hear what was going to happen to him now

“So all that remains,” said Fudge, now buttering himself a second crumpet, “is to decide where you’re going to spend the last two weeks of your vacation I suggest you take a room here at the Leaky Cauldron and…”

“Hang on,” blurted Harry “What about my punishment?”

Fudge blinked “Punishment?”

“I broke the law!” Harry said “The Decree for the Restriction of Underage Wizardry!”

“Oh, my dear boy, we’re not going to punish you for a little thing like that!” cried Fudge, waving his crumpet impatiently “It was an accident! We don’t send people to Azkaban just for blowing up their aunts!”

But this didn’t tally at all with Harry’s past dealings with the Ministry of Magic

“Last year, I got an official warning just because a house-elf smashed a pudding in my uncle’s house!” he told Fudge, frowning “The Ministry of Magic said I’d be expelled from Hogwarts if there was any more magic there!”

Unless Harry’s eyes were deceiving him, Fudge was suddenly looking awkward

“Circumstances change, Harry…We have to take into account…in the present climate…Surely you don’t want to be expelled?”

“Of course I don’t,” said Harry

“Well then, what’s all the fuss about?” laughed Fudge “Now, have a crumpet, Harry, while I go and see if Tom’s got a room for you.”

Fudge strode out of the parlor and Harry stared after him There was something extremely odd going on Why had Fudge been waiting for him at the Leaky Cauldron, if not to punish him for what he’d done? And now Harry came to think of it, surely it wasn’t usual for the Minister of Magic himself to get involved in matters of underage magic?

Fudge came back, accompanied by Tom the innkeeper

“Room eleven’s free, Harry,” said Fudge “I think you’ll be very comfortable just one thing, and I’m sure you’ll understand…I don’t want you wandering off into Muggle London, all right? Keep to Diagon Alley And you’re to be back here before dark each night Sure you’ll understand Tom will

be keeping an eye on you for me.”

“Okay,” said Harry slowly, “but why?”

“Don’t want to lose you again, do we?” said Fudge with a hearty laugh “No, no…best we know where you are…I mean…”

Fudge cleared his throat loudly and picked up his pinstriped cloak

“Well, I’ll be off, plenty to do, you know…”

“Have you had any luck with Black yet?” Harry asked

Fudge’s finger slipped on the silver fastenings of his cloak

“What’s that? Oh, you’ve heard - well, no, not yet, but it’s only a matter of time The Azkaban guards have never yet failed…and they are angrier than I’ve ever seen them.”

Fudge shuddered slightly

“So, I’ll say good-bye.”

He held out his hand and Harry, shaking it, had a sudden idea

“Er — Minister? Can I ask you something?”

“Certainly,” said Fudge with a smile

“Well, third years at Hogwarts are allowed to visit Hogsmeade, but my aunt and uncle didn’t sign the permission form D’you think you could —?”

Fudge was looking uncomfortable

“Ah,” he said “No, no, I’m very sorry, Harry, but as I’m not your parent or guardian —”

“But you’re the Minister of Magic,” said Harry eagerly “If you gave me permission…”

“No, I’m sorry, Harry, but rules are rules,” said Fudge flatly

“Perhaps you’ll be able to visit Hogsmeade next year In fact, I think it’s best if you don’t…yes…well, I’ll be off Enjoy your stay, Harry.”

And with a last smile and shake of Harry’s hand, Fudge left the room Tom now moved forward, beaming at Harry

“If you’ll follow me, Mr Potter,” he said, “I’ve already taken your things up…”

Harry followed Tom up a handsome wooden staircase to a door with a brass number eleven on

it, which Tom unlocked and opened for him

Inside was a very comfortable-looking bed, some highly polished oak furniture, a cheerfully crackling fire and, perched on top of the wardrobe —

“Hedwig!” Harry gasped

The snowy owl clicked her beak and fluttered down onto Harry’s arm

“Very smart owl you’ve got there,” chuckled Tom “Arrived about five minutes after you did If there’s anything you need, Mr Potter, don’t hesitate to ask.”

He gave another bow and left

Harry sat on his bed for a long time, absentmindedly stroking Hedwig The sky outside the window was changing rapidly from deep, velvety blue to cold, steely gray and then, slowly, to pink shot with gold Harry could hardly believe that he’d left Privet Drive only a few hours ago, that he wasn’t expelled, and that he was now facing three completely Dursley-free weeks

“It’s been a very weird night, Hedwig,” he yawned

And without even removing his glasses, he slumped back onto his pillows and fell asleep

CHAPTER FOUR THE LEAKY CAULDRON

It took Harry several days to get used to his strange new freedom Never before had he been able

to get up whenever he wanted or eat whatever he fancied He could even go wherever he pleased, as long as it was in Diagon Alley, and as this long cobbled street was packed with the most fascinating wizarding shops in the world, Harry felt no desire to break his word to Fudge and stray back into the Muggle world

Harry ate breakfast each morning in the Leaky Cauldron, where he liked watching the other guests: funny little witches from the country, up for a day’s shopping; venerable-looking wizards arguing over the latest article in Transfiguration Today; wild-looking warlocks; raucous dwarfs; and once, what looked suspiciously like a hag, who ordered a plate of raw liver from behind a thick woolen balaclava

After breakfast Harry would go out into the backyard, take out his wand, tap the third brick from the left above the trash bin, and stand back as the archway into Diagon Alley opened in the wall

Harry spent the long sunny days exploring the shops and eating under the brightly colored umbrellas outside cafes, where his fellow diners were showing one another their purchases (“It’s a lunascope, old boy — no more messing around with moon charts, see?”) or else discussing the case

of Sirius Black (“Personally, I won’t let any of the children out alone until he’s back in Azkaban”) Harry didn’t have to do his homework under the blankets by flashlight anymore; now he could sit in the bright sunshine outside Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlor, finishing all his essays with occasional help from Florean Fortescue himself, who, apart from knowing a great deal about medieval witch burnings, gave Harry free sundaes every half an hour

Once Harry had refilled his money bag with gold Galleons, silver Sickles, and bronze Knuts from his vault at Gringotts, he had to exercise a lot of self-control not to spend the whole lot at once

He had to keep reminding himself that he had five years to go at Hogwarts, and how it would feel to ask the Dursleys for money for spellbooks, to stop himself from buying a handsome set of solid gold Gobstones (a wizarding game rather like marbles, in which the stones squirt a nasty-smelling liquid into the other player’s face when they lose a point) He was sorely tempted, too, by the perfect, moving model of the galaxy in a large glass ball, which would have meant he never had to take another Astronomy lesson But the thing that tested Harry’s resolution most appeared in his favorite shop, Quality Quidditch Supplies, a week after he’d arrived at the Leaky Cauldron

Curious to know what the crowd in the shop was staring at, Harry edged his way inside and squeezed in among the excited witches and wizards until he glimpsed a newly erected podium, on which was mounted the most magnificent broom he had ever seen in his life

“Just come out — prototype —” a square-jawed wizard was telling his companion

“It’s the fastest broom in the world, isn’t it, Dad?” squeaked a boy younger than Harry, who was swinging off his father’s arm

“Irish International Side’s just put in an order for seven of these beauties!” the proprietor of the shop told the crowd “And they’re favorites for the World Cup!”

A large witch in front of Harry moved, and he was able to read the sign next to the broom:

** THE FIREBOLT **

THIS STATE-OF-THE-ART RACING BROOM SPORTS A STREAM-LINED, SUPERFINE HANDLE OF ASH, TREATED WITH A DIAMOND-HARD POLISH AND HAND-NUMBERED WITH ITS OWN REGISTRATION NUMBER EACH INDIVIDUALLY SELECTED BIRCH TWIG IN THE BROOMTAIL HAS BEEN HONED TO AERODYNAMIC PERFECTION, GIVING THE FIREBOLT UNSURPASSABLE BALANCE AND PINPOINT PRECISION THE FIREBOLT HAS AN ACCELERATION OF 150 MILES AN HOUR IN TEN SECONDS AND INCORPORATES AN UNBREAKABLE BRAKING CHARM PRICE ON REQUEST

Price on request…Harry didn’t like to think how much gold the Firebolt would cost He had never wanted anything as much in his whole life — but he had never lost a Quidditch match on his Nimbus Two Thousand, and what was the point in emptying his Gringotts vault for the Firebolt, when he had a very good broom already? Harry didn’t ask for the price, but he returned, almost every day after that, just to look at the Firebolt

There were, however, things that Harry needed to buy He went to the Apothecary to replenish his store of potions ingredients, and as his school robes were now several inches too short in the arm and leg, he visited Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions and bought new ones Most important

of all, he had to buy his new schoolbooks, which would include those for his two new subjects, Care

of Magical Creatures and Divination

Harry got a surprise as he looked in at the bookshop window Instead of the usual display of gold-embossed spellbooks the size of paving slabs, there was a large iron cage behind the glass that held about a hundred copies of The Monster Book of Monsters Torn pages were flying everywhere

as the books grappled with each other, locked together in furious wrestling matches and snapping aggressively

Harry pulled his booklist out of his pocket and consulted it for the first time The Monster Book

of Monsters was listed as the required book for Care of Magical Creatures Now Harry understood

why Hagrid had said it would come in useful He felt relieved; he had been wondering whether Hagrid wanted help with some terrifying new pet

As Harry entered Flourish and Blotts, the manager came hurrying toward him

“Hogwarts?” he said abruptly “Come to get your new books?”

“Yes,” said Harry, “I need —”

“Get out of the way,” said the manager impatiently, brushing Harry aside He drew on a pair of very thick gloves, picked up a large, knobbly walking stick, and proceeded toward the door of the Monster Books’ cage

“Hang on,” said Harry quickly, “I’ve already got one of those.”

“Have you?” A look of enormous relief spread over the manager’s face “Thank heavens for that I’ve been bitten five times already this morning —”

A loud ripping noise rent the air; two of the Monster Books had seized a third and were pulling

it apart

“Stop it! Stop it!” cried the manager, poking the walking stick through the bars and knocking the books apart “I’m never stocking them again, never! It’s been bedlam! I thought we’d seen the worst

when we bought two hundred copies of the Invisible Book of Invisibility — cost a fortune, and we

never found them…Well…is there anything else I can help you with?”

“Yes,” said Harry, looking down his booklist, “I need Unfogging the Future by Cassandra

Vablatsky.”

“Ah, starting Divination, are you?” said the manager, stripping off his gloves and leading Harry into the back of the shop, where there was a corner devoted to fortune-telling A small table was

stacked with volumes such as Predicting the Unpredictable: Insulate Yourself Against Shocks and Broken

Balls: When Fortunes Turn Foul

“Here you are,” said the manager, who had climbed a set of steps to take down a thick,

black-bound book “Unfogging the Future Very good guide to all your basic fortune-telling methods —

palmistry, crystal balls, bird entrails.”

But Harry wasn’t listening His eyes had fallen on another book, which was among a display on

a small table: Death Omens — What to Do When You Know the Worst Is Coming

“Oh, I wouldn’t read that if I were you,” said the manager lightly, looking to see what Harry was staring at “You’ll start seeing death omens everywhere It’s enough to frighten anyone to death.”

But Harry continued to stare at the front cover of the book; it showed a black dog large as a bear, with gleaming eyes It looked oddly familiar…

The manager pressed Unfogging the Future into Harry’s hands

“Anything else?” he said

“Yes,” said Harry, tearing his eyes away from the dog’s and dazedly consulting his booklist “Er

— I need Intermediate Transfiguration and The Standard Book of Spells, Grade Three.”

Harry emerged from Flourish and Blotts ten minutes later with his new books under his arms and made his way back to the Leaky Cauldron, hardly noticing where he was going and bumping into several people

He tramped up the stairs to his room, went inside, and tipped his books onto his bed Somebody had been in to tidy; the windows were open and sun was pouring inside Harry could hear the buses rolling by in the unseen Muggle street behind him and the sound of the invisible crowd below in Diagon Alley He caught sight of himself in the mirror over the basin

“It can’t have been a death omen,” he told his reflection defiantly “I was panicking when I saw that thing in Magnolia Crescent…It was probably just a stray dog…”

He raised his hand automatically and tried to make his hair lie flat

“You’re fighting a losing battle there, dear,” said his mirror in a wheezy voice

As the days slipped by, Harry started looking wherever he went for a sign of Ron or Hermione Plenty of Hogwarts students were arriving in Diagon Alley now, with the start of term so near Harry met Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas, his fellow Gryffindors, in Quality Quidditch Supplies, where they too were ogling the Firebolt; he also ran into the real Neville Longbottom, a round-faced, forgetful boy, outside Flourish and Blotts Harry didn’t stop to chat; Neville appeared

to have mislaid his booklist and was being told off by his very formidable-looking grandmother Harry hoped she never found out that he’d pretended to be Neville while on the run from the Ministry of Magic

Harry woke on the last day of the holidays, thinking that he would at least meet Ron and Hermione tomorrow, on the Hogwarts Express He got up, dressed, went for a last look at the Firebolt, and was just wondering where he’d have lunch, when someone yelled his name and he turned

“Harry! HARRY!”

They were there, both of them, sitting outside Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlor — Ron looking incredibly freckly, Hermione very brown, both waving frantically at him

“Finally!” said Ron, grinning at Harry as he sat down “We went to the Leaky Cauldron, but they said you’d left, and we went to Flourish and Blotts, and Madam Malkin’s, and —”

“I got all my school stuff last week,” Harry explained “And how come you knew I’m staying at the Leaky Cauldron?”

“Dad,” said Ron simply

Mr Weasley, who worked at the Ministry of Magic, would of course have heard the whole story

of what had happened to Aunt Marge

“Did you really blow up your aunt, Harry?” said Hermione in a very serious voice

“I didn’t mean to,” said Harry, while Ron roared with laughter “I just — lost control.”

“It’s not funny, Ron,” said Hermione sharply “Honestly, I’m amazed Harry wasn’t expelled.”

“So am I,” admitted Harry “Forget expelled, I thought I was going to be arrested.” He looked at Ron “Your dad doesn’t know why Fudge let me off, does he?”

“Probably ‘cause it’s you, isn’t it?” shrugged Ron, still chuckling “Famous Harry Potter and all that I’d hate to see what the Ministry’d do to me if I blew up an aunt Mind you, they’d have to dig

me up first, because Mum would’ve killed me Anyway, you can ask Dad yourself this evening We’re staying at the Leaky Cauldron tonight too! So you can come to King’s Cross with us tomorrow! Hermione’s there as well!”

Hermione nodded, beaming “Mum and Dad dropped me off this morning with all my Hogwarts things.”

“Excellent!” said Harry happily “So, have you got all your new books and stuff?”

“Look at this,” said Ron, pulling a long thin box out of a bag and opening it “Brand-new wand Fourteen inches, willow, containing one unicorn tail-hair And we’ve got all our books —” He pointed at a large bag under his chair “What about those Monster Books, eh? The assistant nearly cried when we said we wanted two.”

“What’s all that, Hermione?” Harry asked, pointing at not one but three bulging bags in the chair next to her

“Well, I’m taking more new subjects than you, aren’t I,” said Hermione “Those are my books for Arithmancy, Care of Magical Creatures, Divination, the Study of Ancient Runes, Muggle Studies

—”

“What are you doing Muggle Studies for?” said Ron, rolling his eyes at Harry “You’re born! Your mum and dad are Muggles! You already know all about Muggles!”

Muggle-“But it’ll be fascinating to study them from the wizarding point of view,” said Hermione earnestly

“Are you planning to eat or sleep at all this year, Hermione?” asked Harry, while Ron sniggered Hermione ignored them

“I’ve still got ten Galleons,” she said, checking her purse “It’s my birthday in September, and Mum and Dad gave me some money to get myself an early birthday present.”

“How about a nice book? said Ron innocently

“No, I don’t think so,” said Hermione composedly “I really want an owl I mean, Harry’s got Hedwig and you’ve got Errol —”

“I haven’t,” said Ron “Errol’s a family owl All I’ve got is Scabbers.” He pulled his pet rat out of his pocket “And I want to get him checked over,” he added, placing Scabbers on the table in front

of them “I don’t think Egypt agreed with him.”

Scabbers was looking thinner than usual, and there was a definite droop to his whiskers

“There’s a magical creature shop just over there,” said Harry, who knew Diagon Alley very well

by now “You could see if they’ve got anything for Scabbers, and Hermione can get her owl.”

So they paid for their ice cream and crossed the street to the Magical Menagerie

There wasn’t much room inside Every inch of wall was hidden by cages It was smelly and very noisy because the occupants of these cages were all squeaking, squawking, jabbering, or hissing The witch behind the counter was already advising a wizard on the care of double-ended newts, so Harry, Ron, and Hermione waited, examining the cages

A pair of enormous purple toads sat gulping wetly and feasting on dead blowflies A gigantic tortoise with a jewel-encrusted shell was glittering near the window Poisonous orange snails were oozing slowly up the side of their glass tank, and a fat white rabbit kept changing into a silk top hat and back again with a loud popping noise Then there were cats of every color, a noisy cage of ravens, a basket of funny custard-colored furballs that were humming loudly, and on the counter, a vast cage of sleek black rats that were playing some sort of skipping game using their long, bald tails The double-ended newt wizard left, and Ron approached the counter

“It’s my rat,” he told the witch “He’s been a bit off-color ever since I brought him back from Egypt.”

“Bang him on the counter,” said the witch, pulling a pair of heavy black spectacles out of her pocket

Ron lifted Scabbers out of his inside pocket and placed him next to the cage of his fellow rats, who stopped their skipping tricks and scuffled to the wire for a better took

Like nearly everything Ron owned, Scabbers the rat was secondhand (he had once belonged to Ron’s brother Percy) and a bit battered Next to the glossy rats in the cage, he looked especially woebegone

“Hm,” said the witch, picking up Scabbers “How old is this rat?”

“Dunno,” said Ron “Quite old He used to belong to my brother.”

“What powers does he have?” said the witch, examining Scabbers closely

“Er —” The truth was that Scabbers had never shown the faintest trace of interesting powers The witch’s eyes moved from Scabbers’s tattered left ear to his front paw, which had a toe missing, and tutted loudly

“He’s been through the mill, this one,” she said

“He was like that when Percy gave him to me,” said Ron defensively

“An ordinary common or garden rat like this can’t be expected to live longer than three years or so,” said the witch “Now, if you were looking for something a bit more hard-wearing, you might like one of these —”

She indicated the black rats, who promptly started skipping again Ron muttered, “Show-offs.”

“Well, if you don’t want a replacement, you can try this rat tonic,” said the witch, reaching under the counter and bringing out a small red bottle

“Okay,” said Ron “How much — OUCH!”

Ron buckled as something huge and orange came soaring from the top of the highest cage, landed on his head, and then propelled itself, spitting madly, at Scabbers

“NO, CROOKSHANKS, NO!” cried the witch, but Scabbers shot from between her hands like

a bar of soap, landed splay-legged on the floor, and then scampered for the door

“Scabbers!” Ron shouted, racing out of the shop after him; Harry followed

It took them nearly ten minutes to catch Scabbers, who had taken refuge under a wastepaper bin outside Quality Quidditch Supplies Ron stuffed the trembling rat back into his pocket and straightened up, massaging his head

“What was that?”

“It was either a very big cat or quite a small tiger,” said Harry

“Where’s Hermione?”

“Probably getting her owl.”

They made their way back up the crowded street to the Magical Menagerie As they reached it, Hermione came out, but she wasn’t carrying an owl Her arms were clamped tightly around the enormous ginger cat

“You bought that monster?” said Ron, his mouth hanging open

“He’s gorgeous, isn’t he?” said Hermione, glowing

That was a matter of opinion, thought Harry The cat’s ginger fur was thick and fluffy, but it was definitely a bit bowlegged and its face looked grumpy and oddly squashed, as though it had run headlong into a brick wall Now that Scabbers was out of sight, however, the cat was purring contentedly in Hermione’s arms

“Hermione, that thing nearly scalped me!” said Ron

“He didn’t mean to, did you, Crookshanks?” said Hermione

“And what about Scabbers?” said Ron, pointing at the lump in his chest pocket “He needs rest and relaxation! How’s he going to get it with that thing around?”

“That reminds me, you forgot your rat tonic,” said Hermione, slapping the small red bottle into Ron’s hand “And stop worrying, Crookshanks will be sleeping in my dormitory and Scabbers in yours, what’s the problem? Poor Crookshanks, that witch said he’d been in there for ages; no one wanted him.”

“Wonder why,” said Ron sarcastically as they set off toward the Leaky Cauldron

They found Mr Weasley sitting in the bar, reading the Daily Prophet

“Harry!” he said, smiling as he looked up “How are you?”

“Fine, thanks,” said Harry as he, Ron, and Hermione joined Mr Weasley with their shopping

Mr Weasley put down his paper, and Harry saw the now familiar picture of Sirius Black staring

up at him

“They still haven’t caught him, then?” he asked

“No,” said Mr Weasley, looking extremely grave “They’ve pulled us all off our regular jobs at the Ministry to try and find him, but no luck so far.”

“Would we get a reward if we caught him?” asked Ron “It’d be good to get some more money

—”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Ron,” said Mr Weasley, who on closer inspection looked very strained

“Black’s not going to be caught by a thirteen-year-old wizard It’s the Azkaban guards who’ll get him back, you mark my words.”

At that moment Mrs Weasley entered the bar, laden with shopping bags and followed by the twins, Fred and George, who were about to start their fifth year at Hogwarts; the newly elected Head Boy, Percy; and the Weasleys’ youngest child and only girl, Ginny

Ginny, who had always been very taken with Harry, seemed even more heartily embarrassed than usual when she saw him, perhaps because he had saved her life during their previous year at Hogwarts She went very red and muttered “hello” without looking at him Percy, however, held out his hand solemnly as though he and Harry had never met and said, “Harry How nice to see you.”

“Hello, Percy,” said Harry, trying not to laugh

“I hope you’re well?” said Percy pompously, shaking hands It was rather like being introduced

to the mayor

“Very well, thanks —”

“Harry!” said Fred, elbowing Percy out of the way and bowing deeply “Simply splendid to see

you, old boy —”

“Marvelous,” said George, pushing Fred aside and seizing Harry’s hand in turn “Absolutely spiffing.”

Percy scowled

“That’s enough, now,” said Mrs Weasley

“Mum!” said Fred, as though he’d only just spotted her and seizing her hand, too “How really corking to see you —”

“I said, that’s enough,” said Mrs Weasley, depositing her shopping in an empty chair “Hello, Harry, dear I suppose you’ve heard our exciting news?” She pointed to the brand-new silver badge

on Percy’s chest “Second Head Boy in the family!” she said, swelling with pride

“And last,” Fred muttered under his breath

“I don’t doubt that,” said Mrs Weasley, frowning suddenly “I notice they haven’t made you two prefects.”

“What do we want to be prefects for?” said George, looking revolted at the very idea “It’d take all the fun out of life.”

Ginny giggled

“You want to set a better example for your sister!” snapped Mrs Weasley

“Ginny’s got other brothers to set her an example, Mother,” said Percy loftily “I’m going up to change for dinner…”

He disappeared and George heaved a sigh

“We tried to shut him in a pyramid,” he told Harry “But Mum spotted us.”

Dinner that night was a very enjoyable affair Tom the innkeeper put three tables together in the parlor, and the seven Weasleys, Harry, and Hermione ate their way through five delicious courses

“How’re we getting to King’s Cross tomorrow, Dad?” asked Fred as they dug into a sumptuous chocolate pudding

“The Ministry’s providing a couple of cars,” said Mr Weasley

Everyone looked up at him

“Why?” said Percy curiously

“It’s because of you, Perce,” said George seriously “And there’ll be little flags on the hoods, with

HB on them—”

“— for Humongous Bighead,” said Fred

Everyone except Percy and Mrs Weasley snorted into their pudding

“Why are the Ministry providing cars, Father?” Percy asked again, in a dignified voice

“Well, as we haven’t got one anymore,” said Mr Weasley, “and as I work there, they’re doing

The door of number twelve was ajar and Percy was shouting

“It was here, on the bedside table, I took it off for polishing —”

“I haven’t touched it, all right?” Ron roared back

“What’s up?” said Harry

“My Head Boy badge is gone,” said Percy, rounding on Harry